


Downside Up

by Devilc



Category: DCU, Outsiders
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-08
Updated: 2010-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen comes home one night to find Nightwing waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downside Up

**Author's Note:**

> What I was able to salvage from a longer story (that was going nowhere fast, really) and got joss'd by the events of _Five of a Kind #1_. A sequel of sorts to [Yet Face To Face](http://archiveofourown.org/works/60694).

Owen came home one night to find Nightwing sitting on his couch. "Daddy send you over to make sure I'm not having too much fun?" he sneered, setting his groceries on the counter.

"No, Boomer, he didn't."

"Uh-uh." Owen cracked the top off a Sam Adams. "Only my _friends_ are allowed to call me that."

"And I guess I made it pretty clear that we weren't friends." Nightwing sighed.

"Crystal. Besides, weren't you the one who's always said that the Outsiders were strictly business?" Owen put a few tomatoes in a strainer and turned the faucet on. (Supposedly they were organic, but Owen didn't feel like taking the chance.) "And that Batman, he's all business."

"Can we _talk_?" Nightwing asked, a note in his voice that Owen's never heard him use before. It took him a split second to recognize it as the closest Nightwing will ever come to pleading with him.

It's late. Owen's tired. He just wants to make a pizza, eat it, drink a beer or two and go to bed.

Turning the tap off, he set the tomatoes aside. "Okay." He crossed his arms and leaned up against the counter. "Talk."

"The problem with the Outsiders," Nightwing began, standing up, starting toward the kitchen, "is that it was supposed to be just business. Only ... I'm not Batman. I'm not ... Robin. I'm not as good as stepping back and being analytical as they are. I _can_ do it, but only to a certain point. Beyond that? It's not natural for me." He entered the kitchen and slouched against the front of the cabinets. "The Outsiders --"

"Were not natural," Owen cut in.

Nighwing nodded and swallowed hard. "Oh god, Owen, you have no idea _how_ much at times. So, what happened, on the ship, and ... with you and Sasha --"

"What you let happen to me and Sasha," Owen corrected. It's been a few months, but he's not over it, because it's not the kind of thing you just get over.

"Right. What I let happen was because of that. I was trying --" Nightwing's mouth pressed into a thin, tight line, and he visibly collected himself before he continued, "I was trying so damn hard _not_ to be a friend, to be this cold, detached, perfect rational leader. I let it overrule my better judgment. I was so focused on not being your friend that I completely forgot to be human." He threw his hands up in the air. "And I wasn't even a _good_ detached leader! Tactically, it was really stupid of me, letting Egg-Fu get his hands on both of you, and then what went down on the space station ... but I wasn't leading then. But I -- I can't be detached. Not that way. I ...." His voice trailed off.

"Are you trying to say you're sorry?"

"Yes!" He sounded almost relieved, Owen noted with sly amusement.

"Then why don't you just say, 'I'm sorry'?"

That stopped Nightwing short. "You -- you'd just accept that?"

"You Bats aren't the kind to say you're sorry very often."

Nightwing's mouth gave a tiny quirk of amusement. Then, in a low, soft voice, he said, "I'm sorry, Owen. I ... just wanted you to understand why. And I'm sorry that ... things ... have more or less pushed you to _Her_."

Owen sighed. "She's not so bad. Really. I've swam with the sharks before. I know what I'm in for." Pause. "Apology accepted."

"Thanks." Nightwing held out his hand.

Owen gave it a firm shake. "So ... why now? Why apologize at all? We were never friends."

"We were -- or, _I wanted to be_. I kept -- I considered you a friend here --" Nightwing tapped his chest, "but I sure as hell didn't treat you like one."

Owen placed his tomatoes on the cutting board and reached for a knife. "A friend would also tell me his name, or at least take off the mask," he said softly.

"Fine. You got any rubbing alcohol handy?"

"Bathroom. Medicine cabinet."

A few minutes later a handsome, vaguely familiar guy came into the kitchen and held out his hand. "Hi. My name's Richard, but my friends call me Dick."

Owen laughed. "Dick. That's old school."

Dick flashed a lopsided smile at him. "Yeah, it is."

"So, Dick, why don't you stay for dinner?"

Dick blinked a bit and asked, "What are you making?"

"_We_," Owen said, "are making pizza. Take off the gauntlets unless you want to chop basil in them."

~oo(0)oo~

The thing about being in tip-top physical condition is that alcohol went right to the brain. Even with food. They polished off two beers each over their pizza, and Owen figured they might as well have a third. So Dick followed him into the kitchen, carrying the empty plates, and Owen came up from the fridge with a beer for him, a slightly bleary smile on his face.

And Dick's just _right there_.

And he had this _look_ on his face and before Owen's beer fuzzed brain could make sense of it, Dick kissed him.

(The way Owen's wanted to be kissed for months now.)

Owen stiffened for a moment in shock, and then returned the kiss. The beers ended up on the counter as Owen climbed him like a tree, and vice-versa.

They didn't even make it out of the kitchen. Just rolled and did a bump and grind right there on the floor, and it was pretty clearly the end of a long dry spell for Dick, and an even longer one for Owen.

It was nothing like anything Owen thought it might be like with Dick. That had involved a bed or at least a couch. This was a lot more fumbly and rough and urgent, all about need. Shirts pushed up and pants pulled down just enough to get a hand in. And despite the fact that he banged his lip really hard on Dick's teeth, dry spell or no, it was still the best sex Owen had had in ages.

Dick stiffened and gave a loud groan just as Owen came in a long, blindingly good rush. At some point he rolled off of Dick, or maybe Dick rolled off of him -- Owen's not too sure, the world's still kind of fuzzy and grey around the edges. Owen only knew that he was laying on his back, on the linoleum, gazing up at the fluorescent lights overhead. Finally he lifted his head and glanced over at Dick, who pretty much had the same sort of limp-noodleness to him.

Eventually Owen reached up and snagged the dish towels and passed one to Dick and the both of them swiped at the congealing mess between their legs and across their bellies.

Owen even thought he might be able to find words and string them into something coherent when a voice sliced through the afterglow.

"How long has this been going on, Owen?"

Owen knew that voice.

It belonged to Kara Zor-el.

They were _so_ screwed.

Owen's mouth opened and nothing came out. He tucked himself back in his jeans and sat up.

Kara's voice might be dripping with hurt, but her eyes glowed with rage.

(_Shit!_)

"I - I ..." His voice trailed off when the glow in her eyes shifted from pink to crimson.

"Less than 15 minutes, Kara," Dick said, surprisingly calm for a guy face to face with a girl infatuated with him, who could, by the way, vaporize the two of them with a glance.

"It just happened," Owen whispered, dry and papery. He felt like slime under a rock. He _liked_ Kara. He'd never intended to hurt her this way.

The deadly glow blinked out of Kara's eyes and they filled with tears. "Don't think you're something special, Owen." Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she angrily wiped them away before continuing, "Let's see, there's Wally, and Roy, Kori, and Oracle. They're all like you, Owen. Red hair and green eyes. You're just his preferred type is all."

She turned and left. Not through the door. Straight through the bay window overlooking the bridge.

Owen's not sure if that's because she's so upset she just took the most direct way out of the building, or if she did it on purpose. Either way, it didn't matter. He now had a huge fucking hole in his apartment.

"God, I hope there's nobody in the street below," Dick murmured, climbing to his feet.

"There's a roof about 8 stories below. It doesn't go straight to the street," Owen said in voice that sounded numb and strange in his ears.

_Fucky fucky fuck._ Owen finally stood up. Kara couldn't have picked a worse time to drop by. She's about his only friend, and he's just pissed her off, like "not going to talk to you for a long time" pissed off.

Dick stared at the gaping hole in the glass and scratched his head.

Dick.

_What was Dick to him?_ (_And was he worth losing Kara?_)

"This whole thing is just so downside up," Owen muttered under his breath as he staggered over to the couch and reached for the phone.

"Got a blanket and some duct tape?" Dick asked. "I'll help you get that hole covered and then ... I guess I should go." Pause. "Um ... what she said. It's not that simple. It's not the only reason why --"

"I get it." Owen bit off the words, rolled his eyes, sighed towards the ceiling, and wondered when life would finally start to get easier.


End file.
